I panned around the map some more until I found the Gherkin. The distinctive pickle-shaped skyscraper I’d seen in a hundred photos of London was a ten-minute walk northwest.
Just a quick walk. Stay in public areas. Be back so quick he’d never know I’d left.
The thought pulled a weight off my shoulders. I could walk toward the Gherkin, get some fresh air, maybe find a coffee shopand learn how London did it. I’d be surrounded by people the entire time. I grabbed my purse—leaving the egg secured in the room safe, because I wasn’tthatreckless—and headed for the door.
When the afternoon air hit my face, a voice in my head yelled,‘Freedom!’
I had an hour at the most, so I headed north out of the hotel, in the opposite direction from the Tower. The streets were busy in a way Brenton wasn’t. I fell into step with the flow, letting the city carry me.This.This was what I’d come for. No one smiled at me, no one paid me any attention. But I was with them. Had Didi ever walked this street?
While I was staring up at the railway as I crossed underneath it, a man in a dark coat heading in the other direction ran into me. He hit my shoulder with his and kept walking, and I spun to watch him go. Not even an apology.
What a jerk!
I shook it off and resumed my walk, reminding myself of where I was and how few days I had here. I had to make the most of it.
The buildings were a mix of old and new. Ornate stonework on one side, blocky modern buildings with glass and metal on the other. I took the long way around a shadowy alley, considered stopping into a Starbucks, and passed a pub with hanging baskets of flowers. The air smelled like exhaust and river water, mingling with fried food wafting out from the pub.
At a crosswalk, I paused to check my map. The Gherkin loomed ahead, closer now, its curved surface reflecting the clouds. I’d walk to the base, take a few pictures, and head back. Simple. The light changed, and I crossed with the crowd. Halfway across the street, I glanced left.
And my stomach dropped.
Dark coat. Was it the same man? He stood on the opposite corner now, facing away from me, but positioned exactly where he’d have a clear view of my path if he turned around.
It’s a coincidence, Grace.London is full of men in dark coats. It’s basically a uniform here.All he’s missing is an umbrella. It’s fine. You’re fine.
Although I was in short sleeves because it was hot out, and a dark coat was a strange choice. I picked up my pace anyway, looking around me. There were a few people in jackets and suits. It wasn’t that odd.
At the base of the Gherkin, I dodged between café tables and chairs. There was a coffee shop inside.Go in.No, if I went in, I’d sit, I’d order, and I’d obsess over whether a man in a dark coat was following me. And if he was, he’d just wait outside.
Oh god.Then I’d have to call Garrett and confess I’d left and face… he’d be so angry.
So I took one selfie of myself pointing at the top of the tower and sent it to my parents as evidence I was fine and in London.
But you’re not really fine, are you?
Well, they don’t need to know that!
I circled the base until I was on the opposite side from where I’d seen the man and kept going. The next few blocks blurred together. I turned left at random, then right, trying to shake the prickle at the back of my neck. Told myself I was being ridiculous. Told myself Garrett had gotten into my head with his talk of threats and security and people who’d kill for the egg.
The egg was in the hotel safe. Dr. Caulfield was the only other person in London who knew I had it. Outside of my family and friends, no one even knew I was here.
I ducked into a covered market—Leadenhall, according to a wide red and white sign marking it as a pedestrian area—and wove between the slower-moving people. Crowds browsed stalls and little shops of cheese, fresh bread, and various sweets.Tourists photographed the glass ceiling, and as much as I wanted to do the same, I did my best to disappear among them.
When I emerged from the other end, I glanced over my shoulder.
Nothing. You’re fine. Garrett’s paranoia is not?—
Dark coat. Thirty feet behind me. Not pretending to look elsewhere now. Dark eyes. The same eyes?—
My pulse kicked up.
Oh god!It was the man who’d come to the café after I closed. The one who’d hit the glass door and told me his employer wanted the egg. He was here. He was in London. And he was following me. I could barely grab my breath, but I pointed myself in the direction I’d been walking and forced my feet to go. I pulled out my phone, fingers clumsy as I navigated to my contacts. Garrett’s name sat there, waiting. All I had to do was tap it.
But that would mean admitting I’d left. Admitting I’d been wrong. Admitting I couldn’t handle a simple walk through London without needing rescue.
Pride is a stupid reason to get kidnapped, Grace.
I tapped his name.
